


Dudley's Daughter

by HermioneGirl96



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domesticity, F/M, Family, Gen, but just a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 01:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15571023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermioneGirl96/pseuds/HermioneGirl96
Summary: Mafalda Hopkirk summons Harry to the Improper Use of Magic Office on his way out of work one day to tell him that Dudley's daughter is a witch and he ought to visit the family to break the news. Slices of Ginny/Harry domesticity in between things, but not too fluffy. A one-shot.





	Dudley's Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> For once, not a blatant self-insert! I was re-reading the beginning of OotP when Dudley encounters Dementors, and then this happened. (Harry keeps running a hand through his hair; you can probably tell I’m used to writing James.)

Harry had heard of it happening, of course—of mostly-Muggle families churning out one witch or wizard every generation for centuries—because he’d heard most of Hermione’s random knowledge at one point or another, thanks especially to the months the two of them had spent living together in a tent, away from the rest of the world. But having heard of it happening did nothing to lessen the shock when he got called into the Improper Use of Magic office on his way out of the Ministry one day when the children were small. 

“You’re telling me _what_?” he asked, feeling around in his right ear for ear wax, or, for that matter, Flibbering Humdingers or Wrackspurts or whatever Luna had called them. Something was surely messing with his hearing. 

“Your cousin Dudley has a five-year-old daughter who is already exhibiting signs of magic. I advise you pay the family a visit,” Mafalda Hopkirk repeated patiently. 

“But—we haven’t spoken in a decade! And we always hated each other’s guts!” Harry protested, though he remembered Dudley’s last words to him and realised that his “always” might not be entirely accurate. 

Mafalda Hopkirk raised her eyebrows. “You think it would be a better idea for the Ministry to send someone your cousin and his wife have never met?”

Wife. Now there was something Harry had never pictured Dudley having. Harry scratched the back of his neck. “His wife’s never met _me_ , either. She’s probably never even heard of me, if my cousin has taken after his parents.” 

“I don’t believe he _has_ quite taken after his parents,” said Mafalda Hopkirk. “The Office of the International Statute of Secrecy has been keeping an eye on that family for years. 

Now Harry was even more shocked. “ _What_?”

“Your cousin has confessed to his wife that he was a bully when he was younger and that he changed thanks to a near-death encounter in which his ‘brave cousin Harry’ saved his life. She knows that you lived together for the duration of your childhoods and attended different boarding schools.” 

It didn’t seem like Mafalda Hopkirk was done, but Harry broke in anyway. “How do you know all this?”

“We spelled him years ago so that we would be alerted every time he used the words ‘Harry,’ ‘cousin,’ or ‘magic.’”

Harry frowned. “That seems kind of Death Eater-ish.” He recalled vividly his encounter with the Snatchers back when he was seventeen. The Ministry had put that kind of a spell on Dudley? He didn’t like the bloke, but that kind of surveillance was something he wouldn’t wish on anybody.

Mafalda Hopkirk’s eyebrows pinched together. “It’s common practice for us to do with non-nuclear Muggle family members of wizards and witches.” 

“Merlin. Remind me to research the candidates’ surveillance policies the next time I’m voting for Minister of Magic,” said Harry.

“Because you’d like to imperil the International Statute of Secrecy?” Mafalda Hopkirk replied sceptically. Before Harry could respond, she said, “In any event, would you be willing to visit the Dursleys to tell them their daughter is a witch, or does the Ministry need to send someone?”

Harry scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I’ll go. Do you have their address?”

Mafalda Hopkirk handed Harry a scrap of parchment. Harry scanned it, raising his eyebrows. Admittedly, his knowledge of the social statuses of Muggle neighborhoods and towns was hardly up-to-date, but this address didn’t scream the kind of high social standing to which Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had alternately aspired and clung. What if Dudley really wasn't the copy of his father? This could be interesting . . . 

“Will you be able to go in the next week?” Mafalda Hopkirk asked. 

Harry found himself nodding. “Yeah. Yeah. Can I leave now?”

Mafalda Hopkirk nodded back. “Yes, you may.” 

Ginny was halfway through making dinner when Harry got home. Lily was crying in her bassinet while James and Albus chased each other all over the ground floor. Ginny gave Harry a thoroughly unimpressed, though slightly worried, up-and-down glance when he walked in. “It’s your night to make dinner,” she reminded him with her back to him, having ascertained that he was unscathed. 

Harry approached the stove. “I’m sorry. I’ll finish it and do the dishes if you want. It’s just that I was accosted on my way out of the Ministry.” 

Ginny’s eyes were instantly on Harry. “By whom? Neo-Death Eaters?”

“No, by _Mafalda Hopkirk_ , if you can believe it.”

“Who?” Ginny asked, worry only half-gone from her face. 

Harry laughed. “Oh, right, you didn’t spend half your adolescence getting letters from the Improper Use of Magic Office.” 

Ginny narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?”

Harry put his hands up. “Nothing! It turns out that my cousin, Dudley, has a five-year-old daughter who’s a witch, and the Ministry wants me to have a talk with the family before anything happens.” 

Ginny snorted. “Because that’s bound to go well.” 

Harry nodded. “I know. That’s what I said. But the girl must be powerful, because Mafalda Hopkirk said the Ministry would send someone if I didn’t visit the family within the next week. And I’m not really sure what Dudley’s like these days—look at his address.” He showed her the piece of parchment Mafalda Hopkirk had given him. 

Ginny glanced at it and then said, “That means nothing to me, Harry.” 

Harry put the parchment back in his pocket. “Right. Well, it’s been awhile since I lived with status-conscious Muggles, but it’s not exactly a high-class area, if I’m remembering right. Which, given that he went to Smeltings and was raised by my aunt and uncle, is kind of surprising. Plus, the Ministry’s been spying on him, and, according to Mafalda Hopkirk, Dudley has told his wife that he used to be a bully but changed after a near-death experience in which his ‘brave cousin Harry’ saved his life.”

Ginny’s eyes went wide. “Seriously?”

Harry removed the pot of pasta from the stove, took out the self-stirring spoon, grabbed a colander from the cupboard, took the colander and pot to the sink, and strained the pasta. “Apparently,” he said. 

“So you’re going?” Ginny asked, extinguishing the stove with a flick of her wand. 

Harry took plates out of the cupboard—ceramic for himself and Ginny; hard plastic for the children—and began portioning out the pasta. “Yeah. I thought maybe tonight, if you don’t mind. No sense putting it off.” 

Ginny took the pasta sauce off the stove and poured it onto the plated pasta. “Tonight’s fine. Right after dinner?”

“Right after I do the dishes,” Harry amended. “I’m not making you take care of that after already making you make dinner.” 

“Right. Thanks,” said Ginny.

Harry kissed Ginny’s nose. “No need to thank me. You’re the one who always says, when it comes to parenting and housework, wizards get standing ovations for what witches are expected to do without thanks.” 

“Which is true,” Ginny replied. “I can still appreciate your help, though.” 

Harry shrugged. “If you like. I’ll get the boys for dinner.” 

Ginny nodded, got Lily out of her bassinet, and wrestled the squalling girl into her high chair. Harry chased Albus down, picked him up, and manoeuvred him giggling into his high chair before calling James to the table. Albus was really outgrowing his high chair, but Harry dreaded the day when neither of his sons would be strapped down for meals. 

After dinner, Ginny read picture books to the children while Harry did the dishes, and then Harry changed into jeans and a jumper, read Dudley’s address one last time, grabbed his invisibility cloak, and Disapparated. 

He was glad he’d Apparated under the cloak, because he found himself right in front of a woman walking her dog, and the popping sound was bad enough without adding the sudden appearance of a wizard into the mix. After sidestepping the woman, Harry took in his surroundings. The low, one-story houses weren’t exactly sketchy, and he felt no more than his usual need to carry his wand, but the yards were small and overgrown in a way that he knew would make Aunt Petunia purse her lips. And Dudley lived here? Interesting. 

Harry waited until the street was clear and then removed the cloak and approached Dudley’s door. His knock was answered quickly by a tiny, black-haired woman who blinked at him in evident confusion. “Are you selling something?”

Harry laughed. “Sorry. No. I’m Dudley’s cousin, Harry. I’d have called ahead, but I don’t have his number.” _Or a phone_ , he added silently. 

The woman took a step back from the door and called over her shoulder: “Dudley!” Harry was relieved that she used his cousin’s real name and not one of those ghastly nicknames Aunt Petunia had invented. 

A few moments later, a man Harry would have recognized anywhere lumbered into the hall. Dudley was still shaped like a walrus, but he didn’t sneer when he saw Harry; his expression was one of neutral surprise. “Harry?” was all he said. 

“Dudley,” Harry returned, resisting the urge to repay some of the nastiness he had received from Dudley for so many years. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Can I come inside? I have a feeling you might want to be sitting down for what I have to tell you.” 

Dudley made no move to invite Harry inside. “Is there another war?”

The woman looked at Dudley reproachfully. “You know there is. In Afghanistan, remember?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” said Harry gently. “Can I please come inside?”

Dudley stepped back from the door and beckoned for Harry to follow him. The three adults crossed the hardwood floor of the hall and entered a carpeted living room, complete with a sofa, two upholstered chairs, and a television. Dudley and his wife took the sofa; Harry sat across from them in a chair. 

Harry decided to get the matter over with, so he said, “The Ministry of Magic sent me to tell you your daughter is a witch.”

Dudley’s wife looked at Dudley. “Is your cousin quite sane?”

Dudley sighed. “Last I checked, yes. I’m sorry, Sophia, but I wasn’t allowed to tell you: magic is real.” 

Dudley’s wife—Sofia—started laughing. When neither of the men joined in, she stopped and said, “This is a joke, right?”

Harry produced his wand, said, “I’m sorry, but no,” and transfigured a coaster into a toad because he figured a mouse might make her scream.

Sofia leaned forward and ran a hesitant finger over the toad’s back. “So that just happened.” 

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Your calm does you credit.” He turned the toad back into a coaster. 

“So Esmeralda can do that?” Dudley asked. 

“Currently? No,” said Harry. “Young witches and wizards don’t get their wands until they’re eleven. Until then, your daughter will just accidentally do bursts of magic when she feel strong emotions, like the time I wound up on the roof of the school when you were chasing me, Dudley. Remember?”

“Oh yeah!” said Dudley. “Or the time the snake got out at the zoo?”

Harry nodded. “Exactly.”

“So _that_ must have been what happened at the park!” said Sofia, looking at Dudley. “It was magic!” She turned to Harry and asked, “What happens once she gets her wand?”

“She’ll attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” said Harry. “It’s a wonderful school, and she’ll learn to control her magic and meet other witches and wizards.” 

“And until then?” Sofia asked.

“Protect your daughter. You may have to make up excuses for why strange things happen around her. You can probably imagine how important it is that magic remain a secret from the general non-magical public. Non-magical people are called Muggles, by the way. There’s a lot of new vocabulary to learn and you might as well start now.”

“When should we tell Esmeralda about magic?” Sophia asked. 

Harry thought for a moment and then said, “You probably have the best gauge of her maturity level. Sometime when she’s old enough to keep her magic a secret. Probably between the ages of eight and eleven. Someone from Hogwarts will come to explain everything to you when she turns eleven regardless.” 

Dudley smiled wryly. “That giant fellow?”

Harry returned the smile, though half the reason he was smiling was because he was remembering Dudley with a pig’s tail. “Probably the headmistress. It’s usually the headmaster or headmistress who visits Muggle families with magical children. Hagrid came to get me because everyone thought your parents had already told me what I was.” 

“Oh,” said Dudley. 

Harry had an idea. With a flash of gratitude for Hermione, he pulled a couple of galleons out of his pocket and pointed his wand at them, muttering spells. When he was done, he stood and handed one of the coins to Sophia. He’d known her for all of five minutes, and he already had more faith in her than he had in Dudley. “If you need me, write on this with a pen. My coin will glow and get hot if you do, and I’ll be able to see what you wrote. I don’t have a phone, but this way you can contact me.” 

Dudley narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have a phone?” It was exactly the same tone of voice Uncle Vernon had used with Arthur Weasley, and Harry hadn’t even broken anything. 

“Magic makes Muggle technology go haywire,” Harry explained, disappointed in Dudley for taking after his parents this way. 

Dudley glanced at the telephone on the coffee table. “Will our phone still work when you leave?”

Harry sighed. “I lived with your parents for half our lives. What do you think?”

“Oh, right,” said Dudley. 

“Your daughter would be a bigger threat to your appliances anyway,” Harry said, trying not to lose his patience. Sophia nodded. “But unless her power is truly unusual, she’ll only do magic very rarely before the age of eleven, and after that she won’t be allowed to do any outside of school until she comes of age, which happens at seventeen in the wizarding world. My wife and I can’t have a phone because we use magic all the time—when we cook, when we clean, when we work, when we relax. That will never be the case in your house.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Do you have any other questions?”

“The Dementors won’t come for her, will they?” Dudley asked. 

Harry sighed. “My encounters with Dementors happened because we were at war and because I was a valuable asset in that war. Muggle Britain is at war right now, but wizarding Britain is at peace, and there’s no reason a war would affect your daughter even if we weren’t at peace.” Harry ran a hand through his hair again. “Well, that’s not entirely true. There are bigots in the wizarding world who hate everyone of Muggle birth, but I can teach your daughter some things before she goes to Hogwarts that will make her less obviously Muggle-born. She’ll have to be careful to keep her heritage relatively quiet, but lots of people do that successfully.”

“What are Dementors, and why were you a valuable asset in the war?” Sophia asked. 

Harry and Dudley looked at each other for a moment, and then Dudley gestured to Harry, so Harry began to speak. “Dementors are evil creatures that feed on human emotion. Get too close to one and you’ll feel like you’ll never be cheerful again. It’s horrible. They make you relive your worst memories, but their real gig is eating souls. They’ll kiss you on the mouth and suck your soul right out of you given the chance. I’ve had several run-ins with them, and Dudley was around for one of them and hated it, right, Dudley?”

“Right.” 

“My role as an asset in the last war is a bit complicated,” Harry continued, “but suffice it to say that an evil wizard was on the rise and I was the only person who could kill him.” 

“Why?” asked Sophia.

“It’s a really, really long story, but the most important part is that my mother died to save me, and living with her family created a protective magic in my blood that no one else had.” 

Dudley was staring at Harry. Harry smiled back, tightly. “Anything else I can do for you?”

Sophia stood. “No, thank you, Mr. . . .”

“Potter,” Harry supplied, standing and extending a hand. 

Sophia shook Harry’s hand. Dudley stood. And then Harry said, “This might be loud,” and Apparated back to his own kitchen. He could hear Ginny reading Babbity Rabbity’s fables to the children in the next room, so he joined her. 

After getting the kids to bed, Harry and Ginny returned to the living room, and Ginny said, “You weren’t gone long.” 

Harry shrugged. “I think Dudley’s wife was too shocked to ask many questions, and Dudley’s still barely smart enough to string two words together, so it wasn’t a long conversation. Dudley is still afraid of Dementors, by the way.”

Ginny nodded. “That makes sense.” 

“I offered to help the girl stand out less as a Muggle-born when the time comes,” Harry continued. “Between her parentage and her connection to me, things could be tough for her.” 

“Are we going to have to start inviting your cousin and his family to things?” Ginny asked. 

Harry shook his head. “The girl won’t even find out about magic for a few years. And I don’t think either Dudley or I really want to spend more time together.” 

“Was it that bad tonight?” 

“No, it was fine. But he did spend fourteen years trying to make me miserable. That’s a lot of bad blood.” 

“You remember that my brothers never let me play Quidditch with them, right?” Ginny said. “Trying to make each other miserable is part of being family and growing up. I bet Albus and James are going to start tormenting each other properly soon enough.” 

“Dudley was different. You know this. It was five-against-one, constantly. He’d have someone hold my arms behind my back while he punched me and the rest of his cronies laughed.”

“Okay, yeah, that is different,” Ginny conceded. She kissed Harry’s temple. “And I’m sorry that was your childhood, and you’re right; I did know about that. I just forget sometimes that there are worse things than growing up poor with six older brothers.” 

Harry pulled Ginny gently into his arms. “I think three children is the perfect size for a family.” 

“Good,” Ginny replied, “because I’m definitely done.” 

Harry kissed Ginny’s hair. “That’s fine, because this is all I ever wanted.” And then: “I can’t believe _Dudley_ got _married_.”


End file.
